copyright © 2004 Laura Tuggle Anderson

The Cape

By Laura Tuggle Anderson

COMIC SCENE

March 5, 2004

ltanderson@hollins.edu

Characters:

Xavier — Svengali type. Passive-aggressive. Jealous of Lois’s talent.

Lois — Human cannonball with low self-esteem.

 

LIGHTS UP

 

Xavier: Put your knickers on. We’re going to be late.

Lois: Don’t you think I know that?

X: I don’t know what you know.

L: I know WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE.

X: What does it matter, anyway?

L: You’re the one going on about it.

X: Just an observation.

(pause)

X: How critical do you think it is that you wear that new cape?

L: Why? What’s wrong with the cape? I like the cape.

X: It just…concerns…me.

L: Concerns you? Why? Does it make me look fat?

X: No — fatuous, yes.

L: Fatuous?

X: Yes.

(silence)

L: So, that’s a bad thing, right?

(Xavier sighs, rolls eyes)

L: Right?

X: I just don’t want you to look foolish.

L: Oh, really?

X: Yes, really. Are you ready yet?

L: What about the cape?

X: Do whatever you want.

L: But…

X: I don’t care.

L: Okay. Fine. I’m wearing the cape.

X: But it might tangle up on you when you’re landing.

L: Tangle? How?

X: When you’re coming in to land, it might get turned around and cover your

face. And in a split second you’d lose sight of the net entirely and become,

well, intimate with the molecules of the floor.

L: You do think I’m fat, don’t you?

X: Stop dilly dallying! The cape isn’t important!

L: Isn’t important? Isn’t important! Well, what is?

X: The only important thing is the "boom." That sound, dammit!

L: Fine. Fine. No cape. It’s all about the "boom." What about my crown? Or

these damned knickers you made me? They aren’t important? I’M not important?

 

 

 

 

 

X: (softening) Of course you are, darling, of course you are. You are the most

exquisite human cannonball I have ever groomed for the trade. Your flight

position is flawless — straight as Cupid’s arrow — your somersault on

landing is smooth as silk, and you pop up with your arms in the air looking

radiant, powerful, shaming the sun’s rays with your beaming face. But the

audience, love, the audience craves that inhuman BANG as you are

birthed from the maw of that gun, with glitter and smoke bleeding from

the cannon, baptizing you to the air. In that moment you become what we

only wish we could be — free. Suddenly and violently free!

L: "Exquisite," really?

X: Yes, darling.

L: And, you don’t think I’m fat?

X: Well, I’ve been meaning to discuss the "boom" with you. Lately, the

"boom" has come across as less "boom" and more "phffffffffft."

L: "Phffffffft?"

X: Phffffffft.

L: Well, how — I mean — wha — I’m not releasing gas or anything, I promise —

X: I just wonder if…No.

L: What?

X: If we may need a wider-barrel cannon.

(silence)

Or perhaps fewer Clark bars?

(silence)

L: (holding back tears) You want a boom? I’ll give you a boom. I’ll give you

the biggest boom you’ve ever heard. And I am wearing the freaking cape.

(Starts to leave — returns) Could you please help me get into the cannon?

The cape sort of hangs out the end, and I can’t stuff it all down.

(They exit.)

LIGHTS DOWN

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